Don't You See (What Could Be)
by PurpleYin
Summary: "Lust for Love" film AU. He's not always been good at telling when someone is into him - which is the understatement of the year for Barry. When he decides to rush full steam ahead on a plan for getting his ex-girlfriend Becky back, he doesn't realize what he's letting himself in for getting to know Caitlin Snow better than ever before in the process.


**A/N:** Completed for the SB Summer 2019 Finish Your WIP event. Originally it was intended for the SBweek 2018 scene stealer prompt but it proved a lot more difficult than I expected and languished on my HDD for the last 9 months.

As part of the scene stealing prompt, this uses several scenes from the indie romcom film "Lust for Love" - a major proportion of the dialogue/text messages in this is from film scenes but some has been paraphrased and tweaked in places, with some added stuff too where needed. This means most of the comedy in the fic the film is responsible for, not me, and I couldn't resist dropping Barry into the disaster of a scenario. This is basically a no powers AU that has some canon similarities but largely follows the film plot so it will spoil the film.

**Warnings** \- there's Barry/Linda flirtation in the first scene, as well as Barry's intent to get back with his ex-girlfriend, and also mention of past Caitlin/Ronnie (and her grief at that) plus past Caitlin/Hunter but I do promise it is endgame Barry/Caitlin. It's a rollercoaster of feelings first since both Barry and Caitlin have their own issues they have to work out before they get together.

Thanks to Ballycastle_Bat for a speedy betaread of this.

* * *

**Don't You See (What Could Be)**

* * *

There's a knock on his apartment door and despite the very eventful month he's been having, and it being an unannounced visitor, he takes it in his stride.

All his energy lately has been poured into fervently trying to win back his ex-girlfriend, Becky. Iris had told him he could do better, to let Becky Cooper go. He hadn't learned better. Not at first.

Cisco and Ralph - and ever increasingly also Caitlin's - help learning how to up his dating game had been at times ridiculous but enlightening. To know he could put himself out there without it being everything, sink or swim.

The culmination of events seems to be his new hot neighbor, Linda, turning up at his door with an alluring look aimed at him.

"Hey Barry, I thought maybe it was time for that drink..."

"Yeah, sure, come on in."

He's not always been good at telling when someone is into him, but his interactions with Linda were refreshingly straightforward compared to his awkward attempts to interact with possible dates elsewhere. The way she says his name and the eagerness she shows nipping inside before he closes the door, all set alarm bells, of the good kind, ringing in his head.

"This is a really nice place," Linda says, looking around at his meager apartment with interest. He doesn't miss how her eyes flit back quickly to rest on his form in an appreciative manner. He swallows hard and starts to feel so out of his depth.

"Oh, th-thank you," he says, twisting away from Linda to avoid her seeing his blush as it blooms, under the excuse of getting the liquor and some glasses from a cupboard. As soon as that's done and there's no immediate task to occupy him, one of his hands automatically cradles the back of his neck, his nervous habit kicking in. "Yes, er, make yourself at home," he calls out over the freezer door he'd opened in a hurry to avoid her seeing him get his phone out.

Behind the cover of the door, and the apparently epic search for ice, he scrambles to get his text messages app up. Once he does, he instinctually picks Cait to message. He doesn't trust Ralph to give actually sensible advice when it comes to anything other than improv exercises and Cisco... Well, Cisco he can't ask about _this_ when he's made his opinions very clear lately about how Barry doesn't need to jump into anything with someone he doesn't know.

Message to Cait: _**I'm with a very cute girl. Help!**_

"So..." Linda starts off saying and Barry is startled, almost dropping his phone _and _the ice. Putting his phone down for a moment and waving the ice tray in victory to justify why he's taking so long, he also peers over the door to see Linda has poured them both measures. "You have any lemons for the -?"

Linda is leaning against the counter, completely at ease, having started sipping on her drink without the ice or lemon. As he moves out into the open again, he realizes the alcohol isn't the only thing she is drinking in and he's sure he's blushing again so bad.

"Er no, sorry. Ice?" he offers and glances down along with Linda to see he's presenting her with T.A.R.D.I.S. shaped ice-cubes. He pops a couple out into her drink and just the one for himself, eager to get the moment over with and onto something suaver than this show of geekery.

"Cheers," Linda says, with a small smile. At least she's amused by it.

That's when his phone starts ringing. Coming from the freezer.

Barry resists the urge to face!palm in real life and relatively calmly hand waves to it and blurts out, "Ah. I'm just gonna go... see to... the freezer, ya know."

He's so grateful for the freezer door and the chill of it to cool off his embarrassment

"Hello?" he asks, not having checked the caller ID in his rush to answer.

"You don't need my advice," come the words of Caitlin Snow. Of course it's Cait ringing him. Her exasperation is obvious by the fact she cuts straight to the chase, although he thinks he can detect an affection to her tone mixed in with it. He hopes so anyway, it's felt like she's warming up to him more and more with how much time they've been spending together.

"Er, yes. Yes, I'd like to order a half dozen."

For the second time in as many minutes, he wants to smack himself. Not making it sound like he's taking dating advice over the phone, check. Not making it sound weirder than it actually is, complete and utter fail. And now he's committed to whatever ruse this is he's stumbling into.

"Barry, if she's there with you, it means she likes you." Cait definitely sounds amused at his antics, she might be giving one of her rare enough smiles on the other end... The thought makes him smile too and forget his mortification for a hot moment. Until he remembers he can't say exactly what he wants to say and is gonna have to work around that.

"Okay. How do I... go about getting more, of the rump steaks?"

Caitlin uncharacteristically sniggers at him, probably for the verbal corner he's painted himself into, and he hears what might be a faint and plenty fond "Oh, Barry," from her before she gets to her serious reply.

"Put some music on, get her dancing," she instructs with some urgency. Her tone seems to almost ask _why are you still talking to me? _The words are said with a pushiness he ought to find annoying but Caitlin's honest encouragement teases a smile out of him again.

It's a plan. He can do that, sure. It's sensible. Fun. Why _didn't _he think of that? Trust Cait to see clearer than he can...

"Alright, yep, I'll try those. Bye."

He shuts the freezer again and finds Linda is watching him still, waiting for him to do something or say something. Like explain what that was about. Ah, crap.

"That was my... uh, mail order meat woman. I like regular meat. Always keep well-stocked. Protein's good."

"Yeah," Linda agrees awkwardly.

"Yeah," he parrots without meaning to, only amplifying the awkward. When he suggests putting some music on Linda jumps up, the tension dispelling. Dancing is something they can both get enthused for and he's glad for the redirection of what he was worried would spell disaster for the night.

He definitely gets the impression it was the right choice when Linda dances increasingly closer to him but there's a sudden beep from his phone and he can't resist checking to see what the message is.

Message from Cait: _**Go for it, Barry. I believe in you!**_

For a second he forgets what the message is about and is just enveloped in the sentiment, the pull of her faith in him, so strong and comforting to read. Which probably explains why he loses focus and trips over Linda's foot, hitting his head on the living room divider with a thunk. That's gonna hurt, he thinks but what he says immediately is placating instead, an attempt to minimize damage elsewhere

"I'm a good dancer, I swear. Normally I dance by myself," he says as if it explains his clumsiness. It really doesn't. He aims to go check his head in the mirror by the hallway and halfway there lurches to the side unsteadily. He steadies himself on the kitchen counter and decides it's urgent he update Cait. She might have medical opinions on this after all.

Message to Cait: _**Dancing fail, knocked head.**_

An almost immediate reply zips into his message inbox as if she's been waiting to hear back from him.

Message from Cait: _**Get her to comfort you.**_

He wonders if she is speaking from experience, if that is what she'd do if she were in Linda's position. He has no doubt she'd be good at it. Linda seems nice but he has no idea how comforting she can be when he doesn't really know her.

"I think my head is bleeding."

It might or not be a lie since he hasn't checked in the mirror yet. Linda does look appropriately concerned at that and comes to see, her hand tracing gently over his scalp. Despite the dull throb of his head, it feels distinctly like A Moment with capital letters as Cisco would put it.

"I don't see anything."

Another chirrup comes from the phone he still has clutched in his hand – the vibrations to go with it send an odd thrill of sensation up his arm. He shouldn't look at the message. If he looks at the message The Moment will be broken.

Message from Cait: _**You could get any girl you want.**_

"She really said that?" He doesn't mean to say it out loud, he must have a light concussion.

"Is this your meat lady?" Linda asks, unable to resist her curiosity, peering at his phone too.

"I can't believe she said that."

He really needs to stop saying things out loud but his mental filter has gone AWOL suddenly. He doesn't know why but the message from Cait sticks in his head, looping over and over as if repeating it will make more sense of it. And then something does click, about why he couldn't resist looking at the message even though he knew that would end whatever could have begun with Linda.

His stomach sinks at the thought of where he is, now that he understands this is not where he wants to be. He looks to Linda to find her gaze tight on him, somewhat confused and arching her eyebrows questioningly.

"I have to go, I'm sorry. _Really_ sorry. Can you let yourself out?"

Copping out of dealing with the situation he doesn't wait for an answer, sprinting out the door. He has enough good sense left to not drive with a probable concussion, but nowhere near enough to prevent him racing over to Caitlin's on foot.

* * *

After the initial spurt of a couple of blocks, Barry feels woozy and admits defeat and takes up a steady walking pace instead. Catching his breath, he dials up the number he'd know by heart even if he didn't have her on speed-dial.

"How do I let her know that I'm really into her?"

"She'll be able to tell."

Cait sounds so sure and he's equally sure this is one equation she hasn't balanced correctly, not knowing she's even involved. Making the erroneous assumption she's just a dispassionate observer.

"Nuh-uh, I don't think she does. So I'm gonna tell her, make sure she knows."

There's a pause from her that sets off the worrier in him. He half expects she's figured it out then and is trying to let him down gently, but it appears to be a symptom of another kind of concern.

"Are you sure you're not gonna scare her off? I mean..." Cait hesitates again, which is quite unlike her. If she's struggling to word things he strongly suspects it's her trying to navigate something difficult. Like telling him to modulate his enthusiasm, one of the key things they'd clashed heavily on from the start of the whole misguided plan to win back his ex. He _knows_ he has problems with how he goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. Enough to scare most people off to the point he'd felt he needed to repress it, along with his nerdy side, and then it would break free at the worst moments, like with Becky – everything crumbling once she saw through the facade he'd worked so hard to build.

"Does she know who you _really _are? How your life is packed full of science, fictional and not. Your belief in the impossible. Your love of the impossible, of fantasy and getting lost in it all. The _somehow_ endearing babbling, plus your terrible puns. I mean, I love all that but it does take some getting used to -"

"She accepts me for who I am." He replies in an instant and has never felt more confident in the truth of what he says as he does right then.

"Well, if you do feel it you can tell her," she says, ever supportive, but he swears there's a strange tinge of sadness to how Cait takes his certainty. She can't know he means her, but her reaction fills him with the hope that it means something to her. He wants so desperately for her to know, to wipe away any despair he senses. He's close to her house now, not so long to wait, he never has been patient.

Pressing the doorbell, he waits bouncing on the tips of his toes even though he's nauseous. His whole body is tingling and he's a bundle of excitement at having figured out what he wants, _who_ he wants. Cait opens the door, confusion plain on her face as to why he is there on her porch and not with Linda.

He reaches forward and presses a kiss to her lips, hoping so much to have her respond in kind. More than that, he expects she will. His heart plummets to the bottom of his chest when she doesn't, pushing him back roughly.

"What are you..."

There's confusion there but he hears anger creeping in too, making him flashback to the tone she'd used so often when they first got to know each other and was easily exasperated by his rash behavior.

"Do you think I'm the only girl that likes you?" she asks testily, hands on her hips briefly before she settles on crossing them over her chest more defensively.

"What do you mean?" He feels his eyebrows shoot up, his own exasperation climbing. "I... I _just_ rejected a girl so I could be here -"

"Oh, so you're feeling confident? Or you want to make your ex jealous? Hmm?" Her arms tighten further in their crossed position and it's almost like she's holding herself in, in a way. Not verbally though, there she's letting it all out; lashing out and Barry really doesn't understand how the conversation became this. He came to the one person he thought would accept him completely, without reservation, and here he is, rejected once more.

He swallows down as much of his upset as he can, the anger anchoring him to better avoid breaking down on her doorstep but he has to be careful not to let it overtake him and make him say something he regrets. Especially since he hasn't got as much filter right now, which serves to remind him he's probably concussed. Briefly, he wonders if he should tell her that but it would only distract them from the conversation at hand, one he really needs in order to get answers from her so he can figure out where he went so wrong.

"Am I not successful enough with women for you too, is that it?"

He stares at her, defiantly holding back any tears that threaten to fall but still so badly hurt at the mere thought let alone voicing it like he has. A wave of nausea passes over him but he manages to keep himself in check and not give it away.

For the first time since he turned up here, he sees something in her soften as she really looks at him. Finally letting go of her uptight demeanor with that, what he sees in return is Caitlin losing more than he would have counted on with it, a kind of defeat in the slope of her shoulders.

"No. You're a romantic. You want to find 'The One' and watch movies together when it's raining, make breakfast for each other on Sunday mornings. I ..that's just not me. It's not what I want." She won't look at him now and her fingers have found a loose thread on the casual cardigan she'd thrown on in her haste to answer the door. She's twisting the thread into a tighter and tighter coil that she appears mesmerized by, avoiding meeting his eyes. "Life doesn't let people be that happy, not for long."

If there's anything he can relate to about Caitlin, it's that fear. He's no stranger to it either. His parents, for all their love, didn't get to stay happy for long and he's had to live for decades with the repercussions of a psychopath's actions that tore his family apart. He's had his share of moments when he thought he'd never get to be as happy as he was before that fateful night.

He knows Caitlin must be thinking of Ronnie when she says this, the ghosts of her own history haunting her thoughts. She doesn't quite have enough distance from her past to feel optimistic about the future yet. She has so much faith in one Barry Allen, she can believe _he_ can be happy, but not _with her _and what can he say to that if she's not ready.

He nods a silent acceptance and turns to leave, walking at a snail's pace down the drive because he doesn't want this to end immediately. No matter how painful it is to be present with the rawness of her turning him down, he doesn't want to have left and have this be it between them. Foolishly, he hopes she might still call out to him, change her mind, find for herself that faith she finds so easily for others. His heart wishes for the happy ending that won't come when she doesn't believe it can be hers too.

* * *

It's been a whole month since she saw Barry and every day she's wanted to speak to him, to try to patch up their friendship at least. She can't avoid the fact she's missed him. Apparently it's obvious to everyone, judging by how much Cisco has been bugging her to reach out.

The problem is she doesn't know what to say. He opened himself up to her and she _wanted _to say yes. She wanted to let him further into her life. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him back, never let go. Have him all to herself like she's longed for while she watched him throw himself at others as part of Ralph's ill-advised confidence building scheme.

She wanted exactly what he did, someone who would accept her exactly as she is. That's why she couldn't let them fall into that practically inevitable option, as if succumbing to gravity. After so long with doubt resting heavily on her heart she couldn't throw it off in an instant and convince herself she could be warm enough to deserve what he had to offer. Not when he offered so much that her love felt small and brittle in comparison.

But she misses him and she knows eventually she has to say _something _. It might as well be today. The phone rings and she half hopes he won't answer. She still doesn't know what to say but maybe Barry will. Either of them saying something would be a start.

She really isn't expecting his softness to how he says her name when he answers, nor the invitation to join her at the touring Harry Potter experience that's in town. They'd been there together before – and by all accounts Barry's been there six times already – but what's one more when she knows what a great mood it will put him in. It should make this easier, she thinks and goes to root out the Ravenclaw scarf Barry had bought her last time.

* * *

Whatever warmth she had felt stirring in her, dissipates when she sees Barry waving to her with Becky Cooper standing beside him. _What the hell? _And then she mentally berates herself for thinking it would be just the two of them, like old times. Getting back with Becky _was_ his endgame. She was a brief diversion to Becky, though part of her wonders, a little spitefully, if Becky is his second choice after _her_. None of those thoughts are remotely helpful for dealing with this outcome. Caitlin pushes everything as far down as she can and puts on a bright face.

The three of them stroll around the cases quietly, and more than a little awkwardly. Cisco and Ralph were meant to have come along too but mysteriously dropped out without any warning, creating this atrocious third-wheel situation that probably wasn't what they were aiming for.

Barry and Becky do the coupley hand holding near the beginning of the exhibit but it doesn't last once Barry gets enthused enough to start making emphatic hand-motions to illustrate his points. Barry occasionally does his geeking out explanations about items that she nods to. Becky flits from display to display though, eventually getting far enough ahead of them that Caitlin hazards striking up a conversation with Barry.

"So great to be here again. I think I'm a convert," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning a touch too far into his personal space as she does.

When she glances to him to see how he takes it there's such a genuine smile gracing his features, dazzling her with his joy at her delight. It makes her heart skip a beat. That smile chases away every ounce of doubt and makes her forget the looming despair she'd end up alone that had settled over her during the time they'd been apart – like Barry himself was her own personal Patronus.

But she's the one who's too late this time, rather than him.

She doesn't tell him that she's now read the first five books. Probably she could gush almost as much about those as he did the last time they were here, but she's reluctant to admit he inspired her when she doesn't know if she can deal with spending much time around him. Not if it's going to be as painful as this. She loves _and _hates every minute of it, being near him again but knowing that he's back together with Becky, who she still doesn't think was worth all the effort Barry went to.

"I bet you're wondering why me and Becky got back together?"

Caitlin shrugs, not trusting her brain to form any response that won't offend him

"You were right about how I shouldn't pretend to be someone else to be more likable. This is me, I should be loved for who I am. But I realized I never gave Becky the chance to know who that is and I kinda felt like I owed it to her to show her who I really am, no secret persona."

"I guess that does make sense," she replies carefully, because even if she understands why, she doesn't think this is a good idea.

"Cait." There's the softness again as he says her name and if she looks up she won't be able to bury the longing that it brings up.

Of course, then Barry goes and says just about the worst thing he could.

"You made that possible, you made me see the truth. That I need to be completely myself with Becky, with anyone I date in the future."

If anyone had asked her when they began this whole thing she would have felt satisfaction at hearing his admission. It's exactly what she wanted him to see and yet hearing it now twists her insides up with a horrible mix of pride and chagrin.

Barry does look happy. She's pleased for him, truly, but at the same time, it's too much to cope with. She can't get out of there quick enough, leaving him standing there without a single look back.

She doesn't ring him again and Cisco gives up trying to mend what she's so resistant to fixing. It isn't her and Barry's relationship that needs fixing, now it's her heart instead. She had her chance and she threw it away, that's what hurts the most.

Her and Cisco binge TOS and he lets her lie about why it is she wants to do so. In theory, she's let go of Barry, but deep down she wishes things were different. Sharing in something she knows he loves isn't a true connection with him when they don't talk anymore, but it's something she can have so she does it. Late to it as usual.

Fortunately, she finds she does enjoy the show, like he said she would, and like Cisco said she would, and she gets that with one of her friends at least.

Barry Allen could never be said to have failed to leave a mark on her life. The pain fading as the weeks pass leads to the positive influence he'd had becoming more and more obvious to her. That makes it hurt more at first, flaring up at the idea of what she's lost. All the things he taught her about herself - about who she can be despite her past - are small but significant mementos of their time together. Those she can never lose.

* * *

Cisco had played a good game at _seeming_ like he'd totally dropped his quest to reunite her and Barry. So much so that she doesn't suspect his ploy when he invites her to a beach party a couple of months later.

At first, she'd had to double-check with him each time he'd invited her anywhere to make sure Barry wouldn't be there too. Eventually, he'd pre-empted it by telling her Barry definitely wouldn't be. Finally, he'd gotten into the habit of only inviting her when he _knew _Barry wouldn't come, which is why she expects there **not **to be a Barry sitting around the firepit with Iris, Eddie and several of their police academy clique.

Cisco waves a hand in front of her face to get her attention back from where it had frozen on Barry, seeing him for the first time in months. "Don't hate me. He's single."

"Oh. Like that solves everything..." she says with more animosity than she'd intended to let slip through. Swatting Cisco's arm, but only gently since she knows he means well, she reflects that Cisco has it in him to be almost as fool-heartedly optimistic as Barry at times.

Ralph waves her over with a goofy grin and Caitlin realizes belatedly what she's been missing out on hasn't just been Barry's companionship - she hasn't seen a lot of those faces anywhere near as much in her attempts to avoid stirring up her feelings.

She pointedly sits furthest away from Barry and tries to pay him no heed as everyone chats until the sun goes down. By the end of the night, the others are peeling off to other diversions - some leaving, some bunkering down ready to sleep under the stars together, some to swim.

She's not surprised when Ralph suggests skinny dipping. Sue and Cynthia take up that dare with Cisco roped into it too. Caitlin could join them for a little adventure, she would have if Ronnie was around to convince her, but things are different these days. Not always in bad ways though. She doesn't want to leave the contentment of the fire and it isn't simply to do with the heat of the flames.

That's how her and Barry end up sitting together alone, gravitating to it, no one else's pull strong enough to overcome what's been building the whole evening since she saw him sitting there, more subdued than she's come to expect from him.

"So.. you broke up with Becky. I thought you loved her."

"I thought I did too. I used to. But things change."

She desperately wants to reach out and hug him, but things _have_ changed. It's hard to know where they stand, she doesn't know if she should. It's much easier to ignore the desire and stick to conversation, however stilted it's likely to be.

"Been on any other dates?"

"I'm... taking a break from all that. Just cruising along. Taking it slow. Take it or leave it. Take me or leave me. "

"Like an old couch on the side-walk," she mutters, tired enough she doesn't give it much thought, saying the first thing that pops into her head.

Barry does a double-take at her words, very confused at the tangent.

"Sorry, I saw a motivational poster like that once," she tries to explain and feels thoroughly embarrassed. "It was weird, the idea must've stuck. I didn't mean to compare you to ratty furniture."

Barry's mood lifts suddenly, a grin springing to his lips. "Some of those couches look pretty comfy, you know."

His switch to teasing her about her blunder is a relief, but he bumps her shoulder in a friendly motion as he does, causing her to blush at the contact. Her thoughts race when she notices doesn't move away afterward.

"Who are _you_ chasing? Hunter?"

His question surprises her, not least for the seriousness that crops back up. She hasn't thought of Hunter in a long time but it's probably only natural that if Barry had gone back to Becky he might assume she'd revert to making do with Hunter. But Hunter had only ever been convenient, someone to pass lonely nights with, who didn't expect too much from her emotionally. Someone who she could rely on stay at a comfortable distance because there wasn't real care there, just infatuation and ego.

"No. I opened my eyes."

"Are you sure about that?" Barry asks, his question bold but his voice light, treading delicately.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spies his hand lurching toward her for a split-second, like he wants to reach out to her too. It feels like a tiny confirmation it isn't too late for them.

"Are you trying to hit on me again?"

She aims for playful as she bumps his shoulder, to add levity to the conversation, but Barry doesn't bite, replying low and soberly. Hopefully it's because it matters to him.

"I'm not playing games. I told you I liked you and I meant it."

"Yeah, I get it," she agrees, swallowing hard at the memory of what she let pass her by. She's replayed that scenario in her head an infinite amount of times in the last few months. It's still so hard to imagine the happy ending to it but she knows it could have had one, if she'd been brave.

"No, you don't," he says with a fleck of anger showing through before he drops his voice low again, relocating his blinding optimism. "We had fun together, Cait."

"...running around chasing girls," she can't help adding to remind him it wasn't all geeking out with too much comfort ice-cream, cocktails and movie marathons.

"We have fun _no matter _what we do," he corrects her.

She knows he's right but she entirely can't let go of the scorn at how simple he thinks things _should_ be for her, for them.

"Are we having fun now?"

"Yes, we would be if you would just let me in." Barry finally gets over his resistance to reaching out and takes her hand in his. She can't breathe for a moment, feeling like she is reliving that fateful night he opened up to her before – Barry putting it all out there and her faltering. The difference tonight is, it's hard but it doesn't feel impossible. Over time, she's found she can believe in the impossible, just like him, and she _can't _let herself make the same mistake twice

"You make me so happy, Cait. And if you let go for one second you'd see that I make you happy too."

For once in their relationship, it's Barry's turn to be exasperated with her, but he remains somehow patient too, he never loses the tenderness that assures her he means every word. It's still hard for her to respond, though she fights her fear for him. Her hesitation slows her down but it doesn't stop her entwining their fingers. Letting him break past her barriers, allowing them to connect without her doubt clouding her emotions. This is what it could be like if she stopped pushing him away.

"I'm yours if you want me, Cait."

Barry pauses, and she can feel the tenseness in his hand. She gives it a reassuring squeeze and he finds the courage to say what is on his mind, "We might just fall in love."

"Yeah and you might just break my heart," she automatically responds, with her knee-jerk reaction to wield logic against vulnerability. It's not unfounded of course, but that justification remains unspoken. _You might break my heart. Again. Like you did._ Like she'd predict. By never giving them a chance; a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Except Barry, being ever optimistic, doesn't focus on the potential pain and ends up wearing a strange awe as he mulls over her response.

"Could you love me that much that that would be possible?"

"Maybe," is what she says, not letting her certainty in her capacity to love him shine through. _Yes_ is what she thinks, but she can't tell him that so soon. They both need to take this slow and steady this time, to make sure it has that chance to be something lasting.

His answer is a kiss, sweet and short, undemanding. Pulling back, he stares at her - shallowly breathing, his heart must be racing like hers, in sync - and unusually he doesn't have any more words. She reaches for him instead, another wordless sentence to tell him she isn't going anywhere – the start of a very persuasive tactile discussion as to why she should never let him go again.

She's strained to reach the hope inside her, but it _is_ there for her to find, with Barry acting like a compass to point her in the right direction. Staring up at the night's sky, they each pick out the constellations their parents taught them – her father, his mother. Something more in common she had no clue they shared and she's glad she has the chance to find out because she's excited to show Barry a few ones he doesn't know, though he claims he's merely rusty.

They sleep under the stars, cuddling for warmth and she thinks - she _hopes_ \- maybe Barry has enough warmth for them both. He'd tell her she _is_ warm, is enough. She isn't there yet but knows one day she will believe it too. Until then, she's glad his optimism does tend to be infectious. What she can believe, as she lies there firmly holding Barry's hand, is that they'll balance each other in important ways and make every day something to cherish for however long they have.


End file.
